


Pushed Into A Closet

by Soak



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Confessions, Dorothea is secretly a mastermind matchmaker, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hook-Up, Teasing, not as funny as i think it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25161790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soak/pseuds/Soak
Summary: Just recently reunited after five long years, Petra, Dorothea, and Ashe are sent out to survey the towns surrounding Garreg Mach. One night at a small tavern leads to unearthing some long-held emotions--all spurned on by Dorothea's tipsy questioning.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Petra Macneary
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	Pushed Into A Closet

**Author's Note:**

> I was tipsy writing most of this too. Red wine is a miracle we should all cherish.
> 
> So... sorry if some of this doesn't connect. Oops.

Petra set down her mug of mead, smiling for no reason as she glanced around the cozy tavern they'd be spending the night in. A week-long scouting mission with her two favorite people, mostly checking in on the small villages around Garreg Mach to make sure they were doing all right. 

Life had a new sheen of hope, now that they had reunited with the professor.

"Yoo hoo! Fódlan to Petra." Dorothea waved her hand in front of her face. She wore a thick, fur-lined cloak over her sorceress' dress, one Petra was admittedly jealous of. "There you are. Something wrong?"

"I am liking that cloak you are wearing. It has warmth, I am thinking."

"Oh, this?" Dorothea looked down at herself, shifting around in it. "It's just some old thing, I could really use a new one soon."

Petra shrugged, smiling like a chum again. "I am not in agreement. The days are having coldness, and the added warmth at night would be nice."

Dorothea frowned. "Have you been cold while we were in our tents? Dear, why didn't you say anything? I would've found _something_ to help."

"No, do not be worrying! My rest was fine, but I am fond of the heat, as you are knowing."

"I... guess I understand. Still, you tell me if something's wrong, okay?"

Petra hummed and nodded, nicely tipsy from her drink. It'd been far too long since they'd had a moment like this. The tavern interior was comfortable, full of dark wood and warm firelight, with fuzzy, content conversation running in the background. For just a moment, she could forget all this war business-

Dorothea grinned, her eyes squinting. Even in her cups, alarm bells went off in Petra's head. "What- what are you thinking, Dorothea? I am knowing the expression on your face."

"What?" Dorothea held her hands up, trying to appear innocent. "Sorry, an idea just crossed my mind. You know... if you want something to stay warm at night--" oh spirits here it comes "--you could find _someone_ to keep you company."

The way Dorothea lingered over the word "someone" made Petra's stomach drop. "That is not having importance." Petra took a sip from her mug, trying to hide her face and buy some time for an answer. She chose her words carefully as she finished. "The position of Brigid is needing me to have focus. Romantic ideas would not be helpful. Be- besides, there is much preparation to be done and anything else would be... a distraction."

The songstress shrugged. "Who said anything about romance? Look, I was with you in Brigid for a _year_ , and I never once saw the servants enter your room, much less a one-night lay-"

"D-Dorothea!" Petra slammed her mug down, yet still covered her face with her other hand. "That- that is not your concern!"

"Sure it is. I'm worried right about now, aren't I?" Dorothea leaned in closer, pressing her advantage. "Admit it. It's been a long time since you've been close with anyone, hmm?"

Of course, you air-brained dummy- Petra groaned. "I will not be having discussion over this. Please, do not be asking further."

Dorothea sighed, long and loud. "Fine. Then at least indulge me, please, while we have a rare night off. If you _had_ to pick _someone_ , who would it be?"

"I do not have any opinions like that." Petra crossed her arms, looking away. Then she noticed she was staring in Ashe's direction, who was up at the counter, negotiating for their rooms. She hastily looked back, then into her cup. 

Dorothea tracked her movements, and Petra could feel the grin boring into her soul. "Ah, I see now. So that crush from the academy still lives on, then?"

"Of- of course not. As I was telling you before, I am not having room for those thoughts-"

"You sure about that, darling?" Dorothea laughed. "You're getting awfully red--why, I can hardly see your markings anymore!"

Petra buried her head in her hands. The warmth creeping up her neck and face was from more than the alcohol. She was truly in a corner now, and if she wanted to avoid weeks of teasing, she had to come clean eventually.

"Fine. Your ideas are... having a little truth."

"I knew it." Dorothea smiled, so awfully smug. Then, watching her friend for a moment, her expression softened. "You know... he's definitely done well since we've seen him last. Compared to Dimitri or Felix or Sylvain, he's still as kind and sweet as ever, despite everything going on. It's admirable, really."

Petra took another deep swig. Fine, this was happening, she supposed. "Yes. It... gives me relief. The war has been bringing many to cruelty, and whenever I thought of him in Brigid, I was giving prayers that he was not one of them."

Dorothea gave an affirmative noise, then looked back over to their companion. Slowly a light smile began to dance on her lips. Her gaze shifted and moved for far too long to be innocent.

"Dorothea," Petra hissed under her breath, "what are you doing?"

The Adrestian languidly pulled her gaze back. "What? Just making an observation, that's all."

Petra pressed her lips together in a harsh line. "You are- ugh... Please, do not be so obvious when he is returning."

Dorothea rolled her eyes, yet still fixed her with that terrible grin. "You can admit it too, you know. If someone was praying to keep him sweet and kind, someone else was _definitely_ praying he'd grow up _rather_ nicely." She leaned in closer, balancing her chin on her palm. "Was it the same person, perhaps?"

The Brigid woman reflexively pushed her hand into Dorothea's face, lightly batting her away. "That is- I am not knowing what you mean."

"Sure you don't," Dorothea said, fixing her hair, "getting all flustered again. Look, he's not really my type, but even I will admit he's gotten much easier on the eyes. A little boyish still, but that's always been your thing, hmm?"

"I am not having a _thing_."

"Right. Still, he's taller now, leaner, and finally learned to cut his hair." Dorothea pressed on, undeterred. "His arms look nice and toned--if _someone_ had to wrap theirs around you, wouldn't you rather-"

"Enough," Petra whispered harshly. "Why are you doing this to me? Have I been upsetting you?"

Dorothea pulled back, shaking her head. "What? No, of course not, dear. This is... coming from a place of worry. It does you no good to bottle these feelings up, you know."

"How does one put feelings into- no, that is not having importance. Do not be worrying, please. I will not be allowing any distractions."

"See, that's exactly what I mean. You can't keep it all inside or it _will_ be distracting." Dorothea sighed. "Just at least admit--out loud, not inside that pretty head of yours--that he's hot, Petra."

"What?" Petra recoiled, nearly tipping over the bench. "No, I will not- no."

"Do it."

"No."

"I know you think so. I'd bet my cloak on it."

"Dorothea, please-"

"Please just say it, dear." 

"Why? Why is this meaning so much to you?"

"Because you're my friend. And the wine."

Petra groaned.

"Come on, you'll feel better, I promise."

"I am not thinking so."

"Dear, just stop delaying. Say he's hot."

"No."

"Say he's hot!"

"No!"

"Why, of all the stubborn-" Dorothea huffed. "I'm warning you, if you don't push him into a closet sooner or later, someone else definitely will-"

"Uhh, what's going on?" Ashe stood at the head of table, keys in hand. "Who's going in a closet?"

The world snapped, at least from Petra's point of view. Cold streaks of horror ran down her gut, so she buried her face in her hands. She was going to kill Dorothea for this.

The evil temptress in question just coughed, taking a moment to collect herself. Then she smiled up at him, adding, "Oh, nothing. Don't worry about it, dear. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think another drink is in order."

Then it was just the two of them, her and the subject of her crippling embarrassment. Spirits, how much did he hear?

"Okay?" Ashe muttered, clearly confused. He sat down beside her, and then it went quiet. He hummed for a moment, tapping his fingers on the table. "Oh! Right, here's your key, just at the top of the stairs. For you and Dorothea--I have the room right next door."

Finally, a way out. Petra picked her head up, snatching the key he placed before her. She whirled around, charging off for a moment of respite-

A hand grabbed her wrist--lightly, but enough to freeze her. "Are you okay, Petra?"

She looked over at him, all too aware of the goosebumps rising along her skin. "Do not..." And then she found herself _looking_ ; admiring (yet again) how sharp his jawline had become, how the baby fat on his face had faded away, leaving nice angles along his cheeks and brows--not to mention those eyes, which had always drawn her in-

Curse that witch. This was all her fault.

The sounds that fell out of her mouth were not recognizable as speech, more like some garbled apology that died as a groan. 

"Uh..." Ashe took his hand back. He chuckled nervously. "What was that?"

Face aflame, Petra whirled around. "I am needing rest," she muttered as she headed for the stairs.

\--

The cots were old, the frame creaking as Petra rolled onto her side. The room barely fit the both of them, with just a small space to walk in the middle. For a village inn, she supposed this was as good as it'd get.

It'd easily beat sleeping in a tent if she wasn't fuming at Dorothea. At this point, she'd almost rather take the cold. That nosy brat... ugh.

She wasn't entirely wrong, but still, it should've been apparent _years_ ago that they had very different approaches to this kind of thing.

A light knock rang out on the door.

Petra tensed. "Go away. I do not want to be speaking with you."

A pause, then came the opposite voice she was expecting. "Oh... sorry, Petra. I don't know what I did wrong--"

She groaned internally. Of course Ashe would be the one to check up on her, and hearing the dejection in his voice cut worse than a blade. Guilt seeped into her chest--this wasn't his fault either.

"--but I'll leave you alone. Sleep well."

She heard him linger for a moment, then his boots scuffed the floorboards as he turned around.

"Wait." Petra rose from her bed, sighing. "You are not the one I have anger with." She reached the door, pulling it open.

Ashe stood in the doorway, hands clasped behind his back. There was a moment of awkward silence, the two sizing each other up. "So... is something wrong?"

She sighed, unsure of how to go about this. "Dorothea has been... giving me frustration, that is all."

"That's odd." He frowned. "You two usually get along so well. What happened?"

Petra eyes flicked everywhere except him. Yes, there was really no good way to be _completely_ honest about this, but lying was something she absolutely detested. So then... how vague should she be?

Before she could decide, Ashe's head swiveled over, down the hallway. "Oh, someone's coming. Would you mind if I stepped inside? It's not very wide out here."

Petra absentmindedly stepped aside, allowing him to enter, and shut the door behind him. Her mind was still churning, so she grasped at the first thing that sounded plausible. "I am not very good with romantic matters, and Dorothea has had much teasing with me for it."

Spirits, that sounded awful. Damn alcohol, greasing her words before she could think them through--now she just sounded like some stupid schoolgirl.

"Oh?" He tried turning in the small space, his shoulder brushing up awfully close. "Well, that's not very nice. What did she say?"

The back of her neck was beginning to prickle with heat again, now realizing how ridiculous this whole situation was. By the waves, this room was tiny, and here she was, trying to tip-toe around her feelings for the other person inside.

Petra shimmied by--ignoring how their arms touched--and sat down on her bed. "She was being... insistent? Persistent? I am not knowing which is correct. She thinks I was needing to say my feelings out loud, or they will become a burden." She sighed, rolling her eyes.

Ashe sat down on the other cot, directly across from her. "Oh, I see. What about you? What do you think?"

"I am thinking that now is not the time for these things. There is war in Fódlan, and the Empire is a powerful enemy. And for my own people, I cannot lose focus." The weight of it all seemed to reappear over her shoulders. She sighed. "Even if I am wanting to..."

"I'm sorry." Ashe held her gaze, full of sympathy. "That sounds like a lot, Petra. If... if you ever need help, don't be afraid to ask, all right?"

A flicker of warmth welled up in her chest. She nodded, looking back down at the floor. "What- what about you?" Once again, her tipsiness pushed those words out, but an anxious curiosity followed. "Are you thinking it is... selfish to give those things time?"

He hummed, rubbing his chin. "I... I don't know. On the one hand, yes, we need to give this everything we have. But on the other..." He exhaled, trying to put his words together. "People--friends or- or otherwise--can be a comfort, and help you up when you fall down. I... I think, at some point, we're all gonna fall down before this over, and probably a lot. So if you think that... uh, _whoever_ this is will help you stay strong, then it's not selfish at all. At least, not in my mind."

"But... that is still for myself."

He shook his head. "I don't think so. You're important to... everyone. The professor always gives you key roles to play, and nobody pushes us to train harder. At- at least to me, I guess." He shrugged, smiling lightly. "If you weren't up for that... well, we'd all be in trouble."

Petra felt her own smile coming on. There he went again, speaking soft, genuine words that knew how to go right through her. 

"Also, with how dangerous it'll be.... you never know, you know?" He looked away. "I know what it's like--to keep wishing you could tell somebody one last thing."

Her smile died. It wasn't his fault, but those words hit too close to home, to the father that left and never returned.

The room went silent for a while, with Petra staring holes into the floorboards. The past hour had far too many emotional dips and peaks. Part of her wanted to just pass out and forget it all.

"So... was this the 'closet' conversation?" Ashe asked after a time.

Petra picked her head up, meeting his eyes for just a moment. She nodded. "Yes. It is a saying that has much silliness."

"What- what do you mean?"

Petra scoffed. "She was saying to 'push someone into a closet'. I can be making... guesses at that meaning."

Ashe's eyebrows furrowed. "I... I don't understand."

She groaned inwardly. "Ashe... It is meaning to start- well..." Spirits, this was awful. Of course this would fall upon her to explain; just her luck.

He still stared blankly at her, hinging on her last words.

Petra sighed, giving him an exasperated look. "To be intimate with someone. You can understand that word, yes?"

"Oh- oh! Yes, right- that... that makes sense." Ashe cleared his throat, beginning the fidget with his hands. "S- sorry."

The nerves in Petra bubbled over, loosing an anxious chuckle. "Do not be worrying. I did not choose that phrase."

Ashe just exhaled in response, running his hand through his hair. Petra found herself fixated on the motion, wishing in the back of her mind that, one day, she could do the same.

The air settled in the room. They sat across from each other, looking in opposite directions. By all accounts, now was his time to leave--he made sure she was okay, and listened to her problems, like any good friend would. But he sat there still, pushing his fingers through his bangs, staring at the floor.

It was okay. Petra discovered she didn't want him to leave just yet.

"So, uh..." Ashe's voice wobbled as he began, "who was it, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Hmm?"

"You know--the one Dorothea said you should, ah, 'push'?"

Okay, maybe he could leave now. Chills dragged her stomach down, as every alarm bell started ringing in her head. "That is... I am meaning, well..."

"It... It was probably Felix, right?"

Forget his far-off guess, there was something to his tone that quirked Petra. It tinged it in a way she had hardly heard before, sinking his words into something darker than usual.

Oh no. _No_. Ashe wasn't... jealous, was he?

And... of Felix? That abrasive, egotistic mess? She'd be almost insulted if not for the _very big_ connotations coming into play.

Petra shook her head, uttering out, "No."

"O- oh?" Hope sparkled in his voice. "Well then, who was it?"

She sucked in a breath, glancing around the room. Time seemed to slow down as layer upon layer of understanding came crashing down. Petra thought back to all he said before, how just _maybe_ they were arguments to not give up.

Still... did she want this? Well of course- but with everything going on, was now really the time? The same conflict had been battling out in her head for weeks.

And then, with a pang of sadness, she remembered her father, and the reserves of questions she still had for him; the pages and pages she wrote down in her journals at night.

Petra let the breath go, taking in the space once again. There was hardly anything to look at, really, except for Ashe. Spirits, this room _was_ tiny--any smaller and it'd just be a...

Dammit.

A mixture of dread and conviction settled in Petra's chest. Yes, if she truly wanted this, well, it was now or never. Fate never shone so brightly.

"I... I am thinking this will be working."

"Huh?" Ashe looked at her, confused. 

The nerves, emotions--they all welled up in her chest. "This is... a good enough closet."

Petra met his gaze as the seconds inched by. For a moment, he held that perplexed look, just long enough to make her worry.

Then, like the sun rising, his face lit up. He smiled, shocked, eyes wide. And yet she could feel the warmth and joy radiating outwards, and that was all she needed to know.

Time crashed back to reality as Petra launched herself over the gap, onto his bed. Before she knew it, her lips were on his, her hands running through his hair, his arms wrapped around her back.

It felt like a dam had broken, and years of pent up feelings came rushing out. She pressed as close as she could manage, until it was just her lying on top of him, still very much lost in the moment as the minutes flew by.

Ashe pulled away. "P-petra!" he breathed into her neck. "Are you... are you sure?"

She sat up, looking at her own hands that had begun undoing his belt. Then she met his eyes, unable to contain the emotions coursing through her. The answer came surprisingly easy. "Yes. Are you?"

"Well, yes. Yes- I mean, of course!" He shifted his hands lower, placing them along her hips. "But, uh... what about Dorothea? Won't she be coming back soon?"

Petra slumped her shoulders, sighing. Of course this would all come back to her.

Ashe hummed in thought. "We can... well, we can just go to the room I rented-"

"No." Her conviction surprised even herself. "This is... the room is _ours_ , now."

"All right, okay. Then what do we do?"

Petra looked about, thinking. Despite her still-simmering anger, it wasn't fair to put Dorothea out of a room for the night. The only option was clear, and for Ashe--and only Ashe--she'd be willing to do it.

"Can you be giving me your key?"

\--

Petra tried straightening her hair--and her clothes--as she descended back into the tavern. The sorceress hadn't moved from their original table, sipping her wine and people-watching.

"Ah, there you are, dear." Dorothea crossed her hands together as she saw her approach. "I... I'm sorry about what I said, before. Truly, I am. It was making you uncomfortable and I should've stopped when you asked."

"Oh!" Well, she wasn't expecting that. "Do... do not be worrying. Your apology is accepted."

The songstress sank a little lower into her seat, relieved. "Thank you. Are you doing better, then? Ashe ran into you, right? He said he'd check up on you."

Suddenly, now devoid of anger, her nerves built up once again. Petra only managed a tiny nod.

"Well, good. So, would you like another drink? I... got you another one, just in case." Dorothea pushed another mug over to her.

"N-no, I will not be needing one." Spirits this was all too much; just rip the bandage off and get it over with. Besides, she very much wanted to get back upstairs.

Petra pushed a key back across the table. "This is... for you. For sleeping. It is the one, uh, well..."

"Hm?" Dorothea cocked her head to side.

Petra looked about, anywhere but her friend. She bounced on her toes. Then the words came out in a rapid-fire stream, "It is the one for Ashe's room and he will not be needing it tonight so you can be sleeping in there goodnight!"

Dorothea's face went wide with surprise and hung that way, rebooting as it made a series of connections. Then Petra saw the many, many emotions that sprung up.

The huntress wheeled around and quickly began to leave.

" _Petra_!" Dorothea whispered after her, loud enough for the whole tavern to hear. " _Petra_! Did you- Are you-!"

All Petra could manage was a mad shrug, throwing her hands up in the air as she climbed the stairs.


End file.
